


Dor Gyrth-i-Badar

by Lunarium



Series: AU verse: Code Red [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What in the name of the Valar is this place?” she cried out, wondering if her brother knew all along and was protecting her from it all this time. “I do not recall Mithrim ever being like this!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dor Gyrth-i-Badar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



> Extra treat for AmyFortuna who wanted Aredhel killing zombies! Many thanks to Elleth for the help!
> 
> This can also serve as a missing scene in my Code Red series! :)

Calling out her companion’s name would mean the end of her life. He was no where to be found, gone from her sight, separated in their frantic haste to get as far from the walkers as they could. If she yelled out for Egalmoth’s name, they’ll home in on her, and after that run-in with an entire band of walkers — literally a band, for each of the former minstrels still had parts of their instruments clinging to their clothes — she wasn’t in the mood for another noisy battle. 

That, and she was starting to feel the pressure of needing to using the toilet. 

A body far off into the distance came into her sight, and her throat dried upon seeing blue in the victim’s raiment. She ran up to the body and flipped him over, breathing a sigh of relief that it was not Egalmoth. The hair was golden, though from all the blood at the back it was difficult to tell. It was perhaps on of the Sinda, and still she wept for him, that another had not made it. 

“But, oh! These are nice!” she said, noticing the weapons, including whole stacks of new arrows. Undoubtedly, the man was on his way to deliver them to some of his people before his untimely death. One hand was close to his head upon which the hilt of a small knife protruded. A bite mark on his shoulder completed the story: having been bitten, the elf ended his life before he succumbed to the ill fate of the walkers. 

“I would have chosen similarly,” Aredhel told him and made a grab for the arrows. 

A growl came from her left. A walker emerged from the forest, dragging its feet towards her. It growled again. 

“Yes, I am stealing his possessions,” Aredhel said as she buckled on his satchel and pocketed a few more goods she gathered from his pockets. “I doubt he has much need for them now. Hardly rude, I don’t think.” 

Another growl. 

“ _You’re_ upset you didn’t get to him before me? Well, _that_ I consider rude, as is the fact that you are also attempting to tear open my flesh!” The knife appeared and soared into the walker’s skull before it could react. Aredhel yanked the knife out, wiped it on her white dress, and sheathed it. 

“Come on, Nimanor,” she ordered her horse, who whimpered at the sight of the two dead bodies. Beside the one walker, the trees seemed uninhabited. 

She found a spot but only managed to hitch up her dress when an hand suddenly brushed against her from the back. At the speed of lightening she grabbed its head before it sunk its teeth into her shoulder and smashed the walker against the tree, its skull cracking open upon impact. 

Whipping around Aredhel saw many more coming, and cursing, she jumped up and climbed the tree, getting just out of arm’s length of the walkers. 

“What in the name of the Valar is this place?” she cried out, wondering if her brother knew all along and was protecting her from it all this time. “I do not recall Mithrim ever being like this!” But it didn’t matter now. She had this completely under control. 

Crowns and silver earrings shone on their bodies, indicative of them all being once elves, perhaps even lords and ladies among their people before, and all were struck down by arrows rained down by Aredhel’s bow. 

“Nimanor!” Aredhel cried out. “Get here, quick! Drat it, horse! They’re only dead!” 

The horse would not budge from her place, hiding far away from the walkers behind a tree. 

“I swear it, Nimanor, if you do not come here this instant, my next arrow will be aimed at you!” 

Neighing, Nimanor finally came around, and Aredhel leapt, landing perfectly on her horse who wasted not one more moment. They sped off, the walkers taking several long seconds to realize what had just happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Dor Gyrth-i-Badar means Land of the Dead that Walk, or more simply, Land of the Walking Dead, homage to my favorite show. ;)


End file.
